


Inside Out

by elevenelvenswords



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Asphyxiation / Breathplay, Bondage, Brief Pet-Play, M/M, Master/Pet, Oral Sex, angbang, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 09:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15637929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elevenelvenswords/pseuds/elevenelvenswords
Summary: “Ever you test my leniency, and that is something I would not deem wise.”





	Inside Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quinngrey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quinngrey/gifts).



> This is what happens when @crackinthecup and I discuss too many Angbang headcanons.

 "W-wait, my lord!" he croaked, his voice no more than a labored whimper that lost itself in the vast halls.

 His plea fell on deaf ears, ignorant as his master was of his pitiful prayers rushing past his lips. The marble keeping the chambers together seemed to have swollen them whole instead, the strangled sounds which bubbled up in his throat seemingly clinging to the very walls, torturing his mind with the acknowledgment of his voice's intonation.

 Muscles flexed and twitched –they always did-, anxiety mingled with undeniable fear knotting inside his innards, churning in the pits of his stomach as he twisted wildly in his bonds. His wrists burned and he felt as though they were pierced by legions of tiny needles due to the friction there, tight rope abusing delicate skin, all the while he felt his airway compressed as the leather straps about his neck tightened in unmerciful restriction. His vision became blurry for a split of a second and stars danced before his tear-filled eyes when his master raised the hand which held the shameful leash attached to the collar he was forced to wear that night. He had barely heard his master's boots clinking against the floor below; and who could blame him? The pulse flooding his eardrums was wild. Wild as his packs of wolves going for the kill on moonless nights, where everything comes down to teeth and claws. Desperately he had gasped then, in an attempt of sucking some precious air back into his lungs which, after being depraved of oxygen for minutes on end, felt no less than burning his trachea. 

 "Hush now, little one," he heard his master purring behind him, careless hands swiftly swimming through the mass of golden hair spilling down his shoulders. Ashen fingers lazily swirled silky locks, tugging at them, teasing, caressing, and he trembled in the faint candlelight.  A shiver ran down his spine, annoyingly pleasant goosebumps blossoming all over his exposed skin, along with the wonderful bruises and bite marks splaying all over his collarbone, chest, abdomen, thighs and... and what lied between them, now fully erect, bobbing and leaking all over the stone between his spread knees with each one of his master's words, with each tug at the leash resting in the Vala's palm.  A wordless moan reverberated obscenely and his back arched in ecstasy when his lord's blackened hands grabbed a fistful of his hair, forcefully drawing his head backwards. His heart was sent racing within his chest, his blood streaming at a concerning rate near to simmering, and his jaw didn't clamp down fast enough to help him muffle the needy and oh so shameful whine when Melkor's boot trailed down his aching length.  He could swear he heard his master growling beside him, a low, throaty sound rubbing against his eardrums and sending new unbidden waves of excitement rippling through his whole being.

 "My faithful little servant..." the Vala's alluring voice began anew, the boot stopping the ministrations on the unfortunate member, "Hush now, for you know what you have to do, do you not? And, by the way it looks, you're all too eager to bring your task towards accomplishment." his master smirked devilishly, and Valar! That slight upturn of his master's lips went right to his throbbing cock.

 So hard he tried to swallow down the small, pitiful moan that squeezed his throat along with the collar. He ducked his head away, lowering his face so that the disheveled strands of hair dangling freely could hide the crimson blush raising up in his burning cheeks.

 He felt more than he saw his master fumbling with the leash between his grey fingers for a while and dark anticipation coursed through his veins. He dared not look up to face his superior, knowing what a disgraceful image he served before Melkor's eyes: hands bound at the small of his lower back, head dipped so low that his forehead nearly touched the ice-cold stone below, his lungs screaming their protest against the sharp, pointy, metallic spikes digging into his neck, and that traitorous part of his body which he utterly abhorred then for throbbing and twitching like that between his spread legs, displaying his need and desire all too plainly. In vain he tried to close his thighs; he had tried hiding a little, just a little of the obvious and shameful truth. Melkor must have seen that truth so clearly by the way his engorged crown touched the taut muscles of his heaving abdomen.

 The sudden –and rather ungentle- tug at the leash took him aback; his master nearly sent him to the ground. He successfully suppressed a yelp as pain shot through his legs, as his knees were undoubtedly scratched by the pavement, and instead tried to struggle up on shaky legs in an attempt of keeping up with his master who, apparently, paid no heed to his discomfort.

 "My lord...?" Mairon bleated weakly but he was quickly cut off.

 "Keep up, Maia."

 Feebly he scrambled himself off of the floor and timidly followed the Vala like a foolish sheep, blissfully unaware of the butchery prepared for it by its shepherd. And Mairon would have been grateful, had he been unaware of what was coming. The sweet oblivion wouldn't banish the blood from his tortured limbs like this acknowledgment does. His lower jaw wouldn't be trembling beyond his control as he forces one foot in front of the other, and surely his cock wouldn't stand so proudly like that, so lewdly, so... sincerely.

 Yet the lieutenant was down on his luck. He was well aware of the deliberate and meticulous plan his master had in mind. That dark, twisted, utterly unpredictable mind. Mairon adored it. Even if he wanted to stop it, even if he would have said no, even if he were to scream at his master that he doesn't want this, it wouldn't make a damn difference and the outcome would remain just as imminent as it had been when Melkor demanded his presence in throne room.

 With a last excruciating effort he bore the irksome task upon his shoulders towards the end, his bare feet fighting with the dais as he struggled to keep his balance while climbing them. Before he was given the chance to ask the questions lingering in his mind, such as what was going to happen or if he could just return to the forge and continue his work, Mairon saw his master spin around, salacious glee igniting his hungry gaze.

 Mairon froze.

 "Well, Mairon," Melkor approached him with feline grace, yet another devilish smirk playing about his pale lips- and oh, how familiar this little, innocent gesture was to the Maia. Like lascivious snakes anticipation crawled beneath his skin, fixing some unknown feeling he could not quite give name to down in his stomach and up in his throat and in between, in his quivering heart. For Mairon knew all too well how the innocence of that smirk was but a cloak for something perilous and venomous. A mere disguise for the darkest of obscenities, ready to unfurl like a wild tempest.

 His gaze followed his master's steps as Melkor closed the distance between them. He gathered enough courage to him in order to look up to meet the Vala's eyes, and under that fierce, majestic look he felt himself starting to crumble. 

 "Do you want us to play?"

 Much to Mairon's shame, his shaft gave a sudden twitch of arousal.

 Yet "Y-yes, my lord..." he answered, his voice so low that the Vala almost didn't hear him.

 Melkor moved closer yet, swinging the leash, toying with it, moving it around Mairon's neck, tightening it and depraving him of air once again. Mairon didn't mind.

 "Then why are you trembling, hmm?"

 Why. Mairon also wished to know. Wildly he tried to wrestle the uncertainty turning inside of him because out of all the foul feelings he could get whilst being around Melkor, it was uncertainty what scared him the most. For it left him exposed, it drowned him in his shame and self-loathing. Like maggots and night beasts it shred him apart, ripping his coverage of flesh and bone from him, only to abandon him in a pool of ice-cold blood afterwards, with nothing left to defend himself with against Melkor's will.

 And ever he was bound to do Melkor's bidding.

 "I..." he trembled with the effort of speaking in this particular situation. 

 Mairon silently started to fidget with his own fingers, and as seconds passed it became clearer and clearer that he did not have an actual answer for his lord.

 Melkor chuckled.

 The silence was unbearable. Mairon felt as though he might burst any second if nothing would happen.

 Yet something did happen.

 His master's fingers got hold of his trousers' lacings and fumbled with them before unlacing them. Devorant arousal clenched his stomach when Melkor's cock sprung out right in front of his face. Mairon blinked a little, as though he was confused, but the Vala would have none of this false innocence.

 Wordlessly his master grabbed his hair and brought him close to his groin with one sharp tug. He winced when the other's shaft touched his lips, a deep shade of red mottling his whole face.

 "Fine then," Melkor mumbled whilst starting to rub his still-soft cock against his lieutenant's face, "Keep your answers to yourself. It's not like I need them tonight."

 Humiliation prickled through him with Melkor's words and he felt as though they might drown him. Melkor's tip touched his lips again, almost gingerly this time, and Mairon could feel the translucent fluid starting to drip from his own slit. 

 No. No, he has to speak up for himself now. He doesn't want this, he has work to do. More importantly, his master can't simply toy with him like that, like he is some petty little sex toy. So, carefully, he opens his mouth to speak, to plead.

 "My lord, please, I do not mean to offend you, but-"

 The clout caught him off guard and sent him reeling. Miserably he yelped, and if it weren't for the sharp pain across his face, he would have protested there and then.

 "I do not think that I allowed you to speak," his master grinned as he yanked him by the hair again.

 Mairon could not believe it. He didn't know why he was still surprised.

 "My lord!" the lieutenant started scandalised by the previous action, "What was that for?" He frowned, shooting his master a sudden glare. It was not received well.

 Fingers curled like a noose round his throat, and his master’s displeasure dropped like a hot anvil over his head. Nausea rolled in his stomach, yet something foul and hateful also raised within him. It cleaved him in two each time Melkor bestowed him a touch or a feverish kiss. Each time Melkor struck him. Each time his master made him hurt.

 It was something dreadful.

 “My, my, Mairon,” the Vala sneered, his tongue darting lasciviously over his handsome lips “We’ve grown bold, haven’t we?”

 It took all of his willpower not to flinch away when his master’s hand started to move, started to squeeze, his little gasp of surprise dying in his throat. 

 “Ever you test my leniency, and that is something I would not deem wise.”

 “Please,” he squeaked through the burst of capillaries beneath the leash, beneath those spikes, “My lord, please, I-”

 Desperately he coughed and wheezed when Melkor released him, coldly discarding him.  Yet he did not have time to draw in another breath before his master’s cock pushed against his lips which he so carefully parted for his lord.

 Mairon hated himself for it. He hated himself for moaning softly around Melkor’s growing erection, and oh how he hated himself for sucking and licking that member like there was no tomorrow. Obscene sounds reverberated in the throne room, the lieutenant’s head bobbing between the Vala’s legs with unexpected vigour.

 “Good boy...” Melkor sighed as he grabbed a fistful of Mairon’s hair, tugging at it gently with the movement between his thighs.

 Mairon’s own erection was dripping wet, utterly ignored, begging for the Vala’s attentions. Yet Melkor seemed too preoccupied with achieving his own pleasure to care for the Maia’s needs.

 Thus slowly, very slowly, Mairon brought his hips closer to the Vala’s left boot and tried to bite back a groan when he finally found some sort of contact. He drew his head back a few inches to place a tiny kiss to his master’s tip. He was rewarded with a growl.

 However,  that growl was not only out of pleasure. A sharp yelp escaped the lieutenant when his master’s boot met his ribs, decorating his body with another dark bruise.

 “Did I say that you could hump my leg, Maia?”

 He felt like he might break into myriad of pieces then. Shame seemed to drown out everything else. There was nothing there but the roar of his heart and the piercing look upon his master’s face. 

 Mairon looked for an answer, for something to say, anything, but he came empty-handed. Pathetic. This was unworthy of a lieutenant. This was an indignity, this was vile and wrong. He had to tell Melkor this, he had to let him know how he was feeling about all of this. For his master would listen to him.

_Right?_

 “My lord, I’m begging you, listen to me!”

 A heartbeat passed.

 Melkor said nothing. Was he actually listening?

 Mairon blinked, unsure of how to continue. 

 “I want to...” His erection was a nuisance, aching between his spread legs. This was so pathetic. “I want to... um...”

 Say it, just say it, he nudged himself forward, yet there was only silence. All of the protests, all of the painful truths that he wanted to give voice to seemed to have died in his throat. 

 “You want to... what?” he heard the Vala saying, and the dark chuckle sent new waves of humiliation through him. Much to his horror, it made him impossibly hard.

 “Oh, Mairon...” Melkor said as he petted him on the head fondly, like one would pet a dog. “Why are you doing this to yourself, sweetling, hmm?”

 His jaw locked in defiance, yet it was arousal that coursed through him. 

 “We both know what this is. We both know that you want this. You want it so badly, don’t you? Come now, don’t be like this. Now, turn around, won’t you?”

 The sweetness in his master’s voice tasted bitter, and Mairon couldn’t quite understand why he kept swallowing it so greedily. 

 “W-what?” he asked, apathy crawling in his stomach.

 “Turn. Around.”

 “But-”

 “Don’t make me repeat myself.” The threat in Melkor’s voice was unmistakable, and horror seized the lieutenant upon hearing it.

  _Wrong_. Melkor would never listen.

  _He would never listen, he would never listen_ , he kept thinking to himself as he positioned himself just the way he knew his master liked it: face down and arse up in the air.

 Melkor positioned himself too. His cock’s head pressed up against the lieutenant’s entrance. Mairon shivered in anticipation. He heard his master removing the plug of a vial of oil and covering his shaft in the liquid. Faintly he tugged at his bonds knowing that his hands must have turned purple. They would not give an inch.

  _He never listens, he never listens_.

 Melkor sheathed himself to the hilt inside of his lieutenant in one gut-wrenching thrust that left Mairon breathless. He moaned shamelessly as he felt his nerves stretched by the intruder and more pre-cum started to drip from his tip. 

 Again and again his master slammed into him, growling lowly as he grabbed Mairon’s hips for a better angle. 

 And again and again Mairon winced. Again and again Mairon groaned. Again and again Mairon sobbed. For the rhythm became overwhelming. Too much, too much.

 “M-my lord...” he whined when the Vala hit that bundle of nerved just right, “My lord, I...”

 A firm slap across his right thigh was the only response. 

 He wanted to tell him stop, because it became too much. The rhythm was hurtful and the way his face was pressed against the floor left him sore. 

 Yet Mairon didn’t tell him. For  _he never listens_.

 He didn’t know when Melkor came, buried deep inside of him, growling his pleasure. And he didn’t know when that blackened hand came to close over his weeping cock, coaxing him higher and higher until a blissful orgasm washed over him.

 The only thing that he could acknowledge that night was the embrace his master enveloped him in, and the thud-thud-thud inside of his warm chest.

 Still, tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he whispered softly “Thank you.”


End file.
